Here you have no longer a
home. You may leave the Hall to-morrow, and earn a fortune for yourself
and your bride. You have ceased to be my son. I never wish to see your
face again."
Mark Hurdlestone, who had listened most attentively to the conversation,
now advanced from the recess of the window, and, pretending to take his
brother's part, began to expostulate with his father on the violence of
his proceedings; begging him to check his indignation, and allow his
brother time to perceive his error. "He could not," he said, "excuse his
brother's conduct. His want of duty and respect to such an excellent
parent he considered perfectly inexcusable, and most ungrateful, after
the many bills he had paid for him, and the great expense he had been
to the family during his continental tour. But then he hoped that his
father would have compassion upon his youth, and take into account the
natural weakness of his intellect, which latter defect made him an easy
dupe to artful people."
Algernon's mind was too much overwhelmed with his misfortune to notice
the implied insult. He did not even hear it, while his artful brother,
under the pretext of striving to effect a reconciliation, was heaping
fresh fuel on the fire, and doing all in his power to widen the breach.
The old man's wrath was at length exhausted; and Algernon, fearing to
lose all command over his temper, and exasperated by unmerited abuse,
abruptly left the room, and retired with a heavy heart to his own
chamber.
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